


the smoke and the blood

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Canon Compliant, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: They’ve had Sylvain for almost two weeks now – Felix has barely slept in that time, and Ingrid and Ashe haven’t been much better. The four of them have been travelling and fighting together since Faerghus broke into two, always attempting to rid their lands of Imperial influence.The Emperor hadn’t cared for that.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	the smoke and the blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jujub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jujub/gifts).



A nimble dodge, a quick flick of his sword, and then Felix headbutts the man, the sharp clarity of the pain cutting through the haze that has descended over his eyes in the last few minutes. Battle is like that for everyone, he thinks – all too clear, but clouded as well. He feels the throb of the cut on his arm, a lucky shot (there is more luck than skill in war, he sometimes thinks) and with another quick thrust of his blade the man before him topples to the ground.

Something is on fire, and many people are shouting, and Felix ignores them all as he pushes forward. This camp is made up of the sea-foam eddies of the Empire’s army, battalions too diminished to keep fighting as a unit but with too many men to set aside. They don’t fight together like they’ve trained for it, some trying to form a shield wall, others a pincer. Felix leads his own squad and they’re a tight knot of whirling blades, in sync and moving as the same beast, roaring and rampaging as they progress through the camp.

Felix cuts open another tent in the next lull, peering inside. Empty. His troops around him do the same, Gwendolyn’s expression fierce as she deals with a man who thought to wait out the attack.

“Not here either, my lord,” she says, and the four other Fraldarius men with them regroup behind her, checking each other over and adjusting their grips on their weapons.

“We continue,” Felix says, and takes his place at the front. As much as Gwendolyn would have him at the rear – no, not here at all – she obeys him, and he knows that he can hold his own. And right now, he’s very motivated to tear this entire place to shreds.

They come across a lone man, and Felix disarms him pitifully easily. He lets the tip of his sword press against the man’s breast, and bares his teeth.

“Where,” Felix says, tasting the smoke and the blood on his tongue, “Is the prisoner?”

The man squeaks, and Felix resists the urge to take his head off and keep looking. They have the element of surprise, but they are fewer in number and all of this will be for nothing if Sylvain burns alive before they can find him.

“ _Where_ ,” Felix snarls, and the man points before fainting on the spot. Felix doesn’t even bother killing him, turning and walking, cutting open tents and men alike on the way.

It’s the guard that finally gives it away – in the chaos, and the killing, and the fire and the death, there are two men armed to the teeth standing in front of a large tent with stakes driven into the earth all around it. Verity – one of the younger troops but skilled with a bow – shoots the one on the left, and Felix lets loose a fire spell at the other one, and both of them bolt. Gwendolyn trips one up and starts questioning him, her lance poised above his heart, and Felix nods to the others. “Secure the area.”

Even knowing that this is the right place, and that they have no time, Felix still takes a moment to steady himself before he enters. They’ve had Sylvain for almost two weeks now – Felix has barely slept in that time, and Ingrid and Ashe haven’t been much better. The four of them have been travelling and fighting together since Faerghus broke into two, always attempting to rid their lands of Imperial influence.

The Emperor hadn’t cared for that.

Felix lifts the tent flap gingerly, stepping into the secluded dark.

“The hell is going on out there? Since when did Imperial parties get this wild? I’d almost be tempted to join up with you guys if you’d told me about that. Faerghus is _so_ boring sometimes.”

Felix feels the words wash over him like the first rains of summer, warm and welcome. His feet are rooted to the ground, words stuck in his throat as relief near cripples his ability to think. Sylvain is alive. Sylvain is alive and well enough to be shit talking any Imperial who walks in here. He’s sitting with his back to the entrance, hands bound behind him on a stake that’s been hammered into the ground.

“Silent treatment huh? I can do that one all day. Actually, it’s my preferred treatment, girls ignoring me after I’ve dumped them is basically the best thing that can happen.”

“Sylvain,” Felix says, choked, like there’s a hand around his throat cutting off his air. There’s a stunned silence before Sylvain starts struggling, twisting in his chains to look over his shoulder. There’s crusted blood all over his face, and both of his eyes are bruised, swollen almost to the point of being permanently shut, and there’s a dark ring around his throat in the shape of a hand.

“Felix,” Sylvain says, breathless, all bravado and pomp gone from his tone. “Fuck, _Felix_ –”

“I’m here,” Felix says, going to his side and pulling uselessly at the chains around his wrists. Sylvain leans into him, eyes devouring him greedily.

“You crazy asshole,” Sylvain breathes. “Lighting fires in a camp is chaotic even for you.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Felix snaps, inspecting the pole that Sylvain is attached to rather than the chains. It’s big, but doesn’t reach the top of the tent. “I’ll give you a boost, and then you get your hands over the top of the pole. We need to get out of here.”

“And I’m sexier when I’m tied up,” Sylvain agrees, and Felix resists the urge to throttle him.

“ _Not_ a good time,” Felix tells him.

“It’s always a good time with me, promise.”

Felix considers just leaving him here, but Sylvain is already hoisting himself to his feet and his vision almost goes completely red again when he sees the amount of blood soaked into his ragged clothes. No one has bothered to tend to the wounds they had inflicted on their prisoner, and when Felix puts a hand against his arm it’s hot, even for this time of year. He needs to see a healer, as soon as possible.

“Come on,” he says, and threads his fingers together so Sylvain can use it as a stirrup. The motion is so reminiscent of their childhoods that Felix can almost pretend that he’s standing next to a horse that’s too big for both of them, that Sylvain has insisted they steal out of the stables to ride around for as long as they can avoid capture.

Sylvain steps in and Felix heaves him upwards with a grunt. Sylvain’s chains jangle, and for a moment Felix is afraid that he’s gotten caught, but then Sylvain lands next to him, his cocksure smile belying that anything at all could be wrong.

“Come on, then,” Sylvain says, and he’s already retreating, taking Felix’s heart with him. “We’ve got a camp to torch.”


End file.
